Obnivelint
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Summary
Despite all the hurt going around, the girls have to talk about what happened. And the Lies aren't easy to forget.
Written for POLYTRIX WEEK Day 7: Post-Canon
Series
- Part 7 of POLYTRIX WEEK 2025
Bookmarked by Obnivelint
17 Feb 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
Great little after battle talk, from a hopeful and healing perspective.
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this was born of the deep need for polythieves and also silliness
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Bullet with Blue Butterfly Wings by NeonDaylight
Fandoms: Life is Strange (Video Game), Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game), Cyberpunk: Edgerunners (Anime)
01 Oct 2025
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Summary
Years ago, Max Caulfield slipped into an alternate reality where her beloved Chloe Price didn't exist. On her journey back home, she finds herself in Night City. It doesn't take long for her to meet this reality's Chloe, but in 2077 nothing is that simple. In order to win her trust, Max is going to have to solve her own murder. The list of suspects is long, from wannabe mercs to international empires. And they all want her dead for good this time.
Even if she successfully unravels this mystery, there are greater horrors lurking in this city of neon and blood- some of which are on Max's trail for reasons more sinister than murder.
A crossover between Cyberpunk 2077 and Life Is Strange. The basic premise is inspired by the Life is Strange sequel comics that follow Chloe and Max after the end of the original game. Expect spoilers for Life is Strange, Cyberpunk 2077, and Edgerunners.
This fic has Cyberpunk-typical violence and depravity. You've been warned, chooms.
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Summary
Makoto clung to her, kissing the top of Ann's blonde head, slim arms that had only recently begun gaining muscle wrapped around her. Fiercely. Protectively. As though, if she loved her enough right now, she could undo every past trauma and take away every old hurt.
Ann fell for the uptight student council president gradually, by inches—or maybe it was all at once, and she didn't even realize.
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She is the dog that bites when a hand extends itself to feed, the dog that is wrong down to its very bones, down to the marrow, down to something genetic and intrinsic and unchangeable, the dog they put down to spare it its own misery.
She wishes it were as simple as a matter of guilt. Guilt for hurting them, for hiding, for lying, because maybe she could’ve fixed that, because guilt, at least, would’ve meant that she’s only done something wrong.
Shame is knowing that she is something wrong.
Or
Rumi doesn’t run when the girls find her backstage.